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Dvorák’s Rarities and Dances New York
Church of St. Cyril
05/29/2024 -
Antonín Dvorák: Slavonic Dances (Part 1), Opus 46, #1, 3, 4 & 8 – Biblical Songs, Opus 99, #1, 2, 8 & 10 – Gypsy Songs, Opus 55, #1, 2, 6 & 7
Christina Swanson (Mezzo-Soprano), Sasha Beresovsky (Pianist, accompanist), Nicholas Hrynyk (Co-Pianist)
C. Swanson (© Samuel A. Dog)
“I am quite a simple Czech musician and espite the fact that I have moved considerably in great music circles, I still remain what I have always been – a simple Czech musician.”
Antonín Dvorák
Just as Brahms’ Hungarian Dances were hardly Hungarian (they were Gypsy-German), Antonín Dvorák’s Slavic Dances were rarely from the Slavic countries. They were, with a few exceptions, from the composer’s beloved homeland, Bohemia, in today’s Czech Republic.
And as was proven last night, who gives a damn their origin? In a world of genocide and national horrors, of mendacity and massacres, the four selections from the first set of Slavic Dances–in their original four‑hand version–proved a delicious elixir for the outside world.
The two young executants, Sasha Beresovsky and Nicholas Hrynyk, played with all the zest necessary for these early bumptious dances. And why not? Dvorák used his Bohemian rhythms and harmonies (save for a few Ukrainian piece), and all the tunes were his own. One doubts that the Bohemians would have recognized the sudden changes of key, or major-minor abrupt changes. But they could have started dancing at any time.
Messrs Beresovsky and Hyrnyk kept the melodies rolling through the roiling changes. The first one was filled with forgivable bombast, The third performed was actually #4 in the Opus 46 set, where the two eschewed simple folkish dances for a sprightly minuet–and enough grace notes to be almost Baroque.
The two did have a few obstacles here. As in all church concerts, the reverberations were disturbing. (For Masses and other choral works, such reverb is usually an advantage.) Secondly, the Slavonic Dances are so spontaneous, that four walls–even in the austere Franciscan church–that they demand an al fresco locale.
N. Hrynyk & S. Beresovsky in the Church of St. Cyril (© Samuel A. Dog)
Third, the piano in St. Cyril’s Church was hardly a Steinway. True perversely, this added to the folkish quality. Though the two artists showed precision, liveliness, and accuracy, the piano couldn’t quite differentiate the colors of the four selections.
While the Dances are pure popular delight, mezzo‑soprano Christina Swanson came near to pulling off four of the Biblical Songs. For the sunny radiance of Antonín Dvorák, these fall in the sacred section. One had to wonder how any singer could alternate the Gypsy Songs with the Slavonic Dances and verses from the Slavonic version of the Psalms.
The changes from secular to sacred in the program weren’t ideal, but Mezzo Christina Swanson acquitted herself well. Rather than take the easy way out, she learned her Czech well enough to declaim in Dvorák’s original. (The composer himself didn’t think anybody could do this, and his first publication gave the choice of English and German.)
Add to this a most pleasing voice with a high range that could put her some day with sopranos. Perhaps, the reverence of the Biblical Songs was secondary to her lovely voice, perhaps the emotions weren’t that of a young singer (or a church) but without translations in the program, they seemed fine.
No reservations at all about the four gems from the Gypsy Songs. Dvorák’s Biblical Songs were written in America, so they seemed more nostalgic than liturgical. For the Gypsy Songs, Dvorák worked with a real Gypsy poet, and they were obviously real stories, stories missing, alas from the printed program. The most familiar (for this listener, the only familiar song was #4, “Songs My Mother Taught Me.” One didn’t find much Gypsy music here, but Dvorák’s melodies with an excellent accompaniment by Mr. Beresovsky, were sung with that so‑rare genius of Dvorák, as lovely art‑songs evoking bucolic auras.
Harry Rolnick
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